


Mike Hanlon Grows Up

by Aestheticdenbrough



Series: losers growing up [4]
Category: IT (1990), IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Chores, Dog - Freeform, Father-Son Relationship, Library, Racism, farm, history books, mr chips is alive shh, smart young man, young au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-24
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-06-15 10:32:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15411003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aestheticdenbrough/pseuds/Aestheticdenbrough
Summary: Mike learns the importance of self reliance and hard work.





	1. Green Watering Can

Mike is just five years old when his father, Will Hanlon, tells him all about how the farm will be his one day. Mike Hanlon is five years old when his father starts saving profits of the farm for his college fund. 

Mike watches his father on the tractor, the vehicle shaking and grumbling as it goes over the land. He can't help but smile at his dad, someone who's built all this up from nothing, and they now live a comfortable life despite still being the only black family in Derry. 

The tractor stops with a wheeze, his dad hopping down from it, lifting Mike up and above his head, smiling brightly at how Mike giggles and squirms in his big hands, bringing him back down to the dirt.

"Good ride, papa?" Mike asks, taking Will's hand in his own to walk together to the field. Will just smiles and lets out an airy chuckle, squeezing Mike's hand comfortably. 

"Great ride, kiddo," he replies, taking Mike to sit with their backs against the big red Barn, "Hard work always feels good, Mikey, takes you to reach your goals faster," he says, Mike admiring his face as he speaks, his wise old man who only seems to talk about important things that make him feel big and smart to know.

"Yeah, pop," Mike agrees, nodding his head, "Can I help you water the flowers now?" He asks with a small grin, looking up at his dad with his eyes lighting up in excitement.

Will gives him an equal grin, pushing himself up and offering his hands to his son to help him up, "Let's do it," he agrees.

Mike pops up to his feet, "My watering can is in the shed, right?" He asks, keeping one of his father's hands as they walk in that direction.  
.  
Will nods, "Yup, as long as you put it away when you were supposed to," he warns. He unlocks the shed, opening the door with a long screech that makes both of them cringe. "I'll have to get some oil for this door," he chuckles after, opening it the rest of the way.

Mike steps into the wooden shed, picking up his plastic green watering can, a bit old and flimsy but it's also his pride and joy. He loves helping his father, and this is the physical manifestation of that. He steps back out into the light, holding it up, "I did put it away!" He says proudly.

Will smiles at his son, "Good!" He encourages, putting his hand on the back of Mike's shoulder to lead him to the small flower garden they keep. It doesn't do them good like the rest of the farm, but it's one of Mike's favorite parts.

Mike takes the watering can to the hose, filling it with a grin until it's full. He lugs it clumsily to the garden, leaning it forward to tenderly water each one, humming a tune to himself to which his dad joins in on.

"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine," Will sings smoothly along with Mike humming the tune, watching over him as he dances the watering can over the flowers carefully, the sun hitting the backs of their necks, leaving the rest of them heated to a comfortable temperature.

"Papa? Should we pick some for mama again?" Mike asks, looking up and letting the water flow out as he stops paying attention.

Will smiles warmly, "I think she'd like that, Mikey," he agrees with a single nod. He goes to the corner of the fenced off garden area, pulling a few daisies from the many.

"Sometime we should start growing roses!" Mike suggests happily, finishing off the watering job in favor of picking a few pink flowers.

The two walk around the garden, humming softly to themselves as they collect a bouquet for Jessica. They put it together into a bundle of them to bring to the woman who's probably working on preparing dinner.

The two of them take all the flowers out of the garden, walking into the house and sneaking past the kitchen to the living room, Will bringing back a thin ribbon which he ties around the stems in a dainty bow.

Mike takes the flowers proudly, smiling widely and jumping up and down, "Can we give them to her? Can we give them to her?" He begs his father.

Will smiles at his son's kindness, patting Mike's shoulder. "Yes, we can," he agrees, putting his hand on the small of Mike's back to lead him to the kitchen. 

Will finds Jess in front of a cutting board, reaching his arms around her waist and putting his head on her shoulder, she jumps in surprise and giggles when she realizes what it is, "What do you two need?" She asks, jokingly frustrated as she brushes her hands off on her apron.

Mike walks up with the flowers and his bright, charming grin, "For you, m'lady," he says jokingly with a playful bow to present them to her.

She smiles just as widely at him, rubbing his head affectionately, "You need a haircut soon," she comments as she takes them, "I'll find a vase, and you two stay out of trouble, ya hear?" she jokes, pecking her husband on the lips as she goes to the closet to find a holder for them.

The family dog trots into the kitchen, his pink tongue hanging out of his mouth happily, going straight to jump up on Mike.

"Hey! Mr. Chips! Stop!" He shrieks through the giggles, helping the dogs paws down to the floor, patting his shoulder, "Not in the kitchen!" He tells him, trying to coax him out to at least the living room.

The dog complies easily, just happy to have the attention, Mike sits on the carpet in front of him, ruffling the soft sandy fur around the dog's ears, "Good boy!" He coos, receiving a slobbery kiss on the face.

Jess walks to the living room, standing in the entryway with a warm smile, overcome with how happy these moments make her. "Michael! Dinner's ready," she tells him after a few moments.

Mike jumps a bit at her words, regarding her quickly and standing up, giving Mr. Chips a final pat on the head as he skips over to his mother's side, "I'm ready!" He says to her.

"Wash your hands first!" She tells him, a small chuckle escaping her lips as he studies the dirt under his nails. 

He nods in a sheepish agreement, going to the bathroom to scrub them until they could be deemed clean enough to eat. He looks himself in the mirror, trying not to think about how everyone thinks he's so much different than them, reminded nearly every time he looks in a reflective surface despite himself.

He pushes the thoughts away to wash his hands, drying them on the seat of his worn blue jeans before going back to the kitchen, sitting in his normal seat, lowering his head in prayer out of habit.

The family says their usual prayer before settling to eat their meal, talking amongst themselves about their days, the farm and it's current finances, Mike doing his best to include himself.


	2. History and The Butcher Shop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike spends a morning at the library before doing one of his daily chores.

Mike has always been serious about his studies. By always, meaning since he was five years old and started learning to read, all the way up to now at eight. Reading is still his favorite. The way the crisp paper folds beneath his fingers and the way the turn of a page cuts the air with a fwip sound that never ceases to satisfy him.

He reads a lot, and faster than he used to. Soon he's gone through the only things in the kid section of the library that seem to interest him to any level. Soon he wanders. The history books are right next to the kid section, they could nearly be mistaken for a part of it if not for the dreary covers and thick spines.

He picks one up, one about local history, which sounds like a very good place to start. He flips through pages a bit slower than he did with the kids books, the book he's holding now obviously being much more delicate with age.

He flips through the pages on the iron works and the things that had taken place. He doesn't know what draws him to a page about a thing called The Black Spot, but he sees the pictures and flips past it, not knowing how to cope with the gruesomeness. 

He's always been a bit awkward talking to people so books have always been a place of solace for him. He devours the chapters about the early settlers. The group of people who came and lived here in Derry, who mysteriously disappeared without a trace. He can only be happy that present times are just a little better, despite the mortality rates of young people.

He closes the book with a sigh, a shiver running down his body. It's just a bit too much all at once, it irrationally makes him fear his life to some level. The past is the past, he has to remind himself.

He stands up and slips the book back onto the shelf exactly where he found it originally. He looks around before he starts walking to the front entrance of the library to leave. His bike is hooked to a tree outside and he has to hurry to deliver some sheep meat to the butcher, the job his father has had him do recently to get himself a bit of cash.

He peers around the corner carefully, something he's learned to do recently due to constant bullying, another reason he's grateful to be homeschooled. He walks up to his bike, swinging his leg over the seat to get on and gripping the handlebars. 

He unhooks it and makes sure to reposition the meat carefully so that it wouldn't fall out on the way if he so much as ran over a petal. He kicks the kickstand up and starts to petal down the grass bumpily. He finally goes over the curb, his butt leaving the seat for just a moment as he bounces down to the street.

He feels calm as he rides down the road, bumping over divets in the pavement. He lets one of his arms hang down on his side as he rides, only one hand up on his handlebars to steer. He keeps the arm down so it's easier to throw it over the packages of meat so it doesn't fall, otherwise the sheep would have died for nothing.

He looks on the sidewalks as he goes, he knows where every crack is on his route to the butcher shop. He could point out every new spiderweb if he lead someone down the path slow enough.

He finally starts seeing the shops around his destination. A craft store, a cafe, and Mike's personal favorite is a bookstore. The owner knows him by name and often gives Mike discounts, as long as he promises not to tell anyone.

Mike wouldn't tell anyone anyways, he doesn't want to make anyone jealous. He doesn't live to make anyone feel bad, he tries his best to build them up. He knows how it feels to be knocked down, physically and emotionally.

He drops his sneakered foot to the ground to help his tires skid to a stop right in front of the butcher shop. He prefers to go up front, the alleyway gives him a bad feeling, a sneaking emotion of feeling unsafe.

He gathers up the packages his father had carefully put together, pushing his way into the shop, the bell letting out an airy jingle. "Afternoon, sir!" Mike calls, sprawling the merchandise on the glass counter, having tried to carry it all in one trip and it hadn't been the most convenient.

The man comes out, brushing his wet hands on the linen apron, "Hello, young man," he greets with a smile, one of the few people in town who shows the Hanlon family any respect, small towns never are the best for "people like them" as they're called.

The man hands over the promised wad of cash, no doubt the price Will had already agreed on before Mike had even set off. 

"I was at the library, sorry if I'm late," he says, leaning his arms on the cool counter to relax a bit after the long ride, which even has two hills he has to bike up from the farm, but only one if he starts from the library.

"No, son, you're just on time," the man says with a nod, picking up the packages to take to the freezer in the back room so it could refreeze and be ready to be resold whenever someone needed it.

"I should head off now, though, mother wants me to help with dinner," Mike says, smiling to himself, today has been productive and will continue to be.

He can't help but remember the things he'd read about earlier, they'd slipped his mind as he cleared his head on the ride here. 

He gives the man a final nod, hearing the bell jingle behind him as he leaves. He gets on his bike , which he's glad is still there, he'd forgotten to tie it up. 

He hops on the bike, biking quickly down the road and down the hill at his favorite speed. He likes the fast paced down hill, especially on the warmer days, the wind feels nice on his sweaty skin.

He pedals furiously once he hits flat ground again, excited to get home for food and to say hi to his dog, who his dad let out for him this morning so he hasn't seen him yet.


End file.
